December 9, 1999.

I'm exhausted. It's been an exhausting week: the stress of working 6 straight days plus all the evening errands. I've been out every night this week. Tonight we took my grandparents out to the boutiques & bought the dress (something completely different from The Dress, which is a black velvet number). I'm very happy with it. Without giving too much away, it's a very classic dress with definite Camelot/Breakfast at Tiffany's qualities. It feels good. I'll enjoy being married in it.

My only regret is that Stacy wasn't there: I think she would totally dig being let loose in a discount dress boutique, if only to get the chance to say, "I could make that for 80 bucks." Or something.

My parents also booked the hall today. When asked about vegan dishes, the caterer guaranteed the ingredients. So I'm happy. The only drag is that they won't let me specify bar brands, which means we have to put up with Canadian, Coors Light, etc. Then again, it'll be an open bar...so after an hour or two, my sensitive palated friends will be too drunk to notice the beery swill on offer.

Which reminds me: I talked to Sven the other night about the wedding, and he immediately calculated how long he had to steal the Boy away. He threatened to use his "superior male oral sex skills," but I'm not afraid. I continue to be amused that my greatest self-declared rivals for the Boy are always men. Even Paris loves the Boy for his D & D conversational skills. So there you go.

I'm less upset today about Mattie's premature death. I have some exciting concepts in mind for the new chapter of Atlantic City, but I'm going to take the rest of the month to develop them. Mattie deserves no less.